Snapshots
by alwayswritewithcoffee
Summary: Sometimes the small moments are the most important. A collection of ficlets (usually less than 1,000 words each) about moments in the Castle-verse.
1. Chapter 1 Let's Dance

_A/N: Because 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' sneak peeks keep giving me all kinds of ideas. This whole work is going to be rather abstract - ficlets that are little snapshots of Castle and Beckett. It's actually been fun to do, allowing me time to write something when I'm too busy to sit down and write a whole chapter or not in an angst-y mood for Manhattan (which will be updated soon, I swear!). I hope you enjoy. _

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Castle. If I did, my bank account would have a lot more numbers in it.

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><p>She follows Castle begrudgingly, practically chases his long strides down the main hallway towards the pounding beat of music. It's one of those times where she hates his childlike enthusiasm, how it takes over even the most ordinary of actions when she really needs to catch her partner and convince him that they should go home rather than enter the horde of teenagers she can now see bouncing and swaying to a cover of a Mandy Sutton song she only vaguely remembers from the radio.<p>

He's disappeared on her by the time Kate passes through the double doors, his dark hair and black suit blending impossibly with the bright glittery confections that the girls in the room have chosen for their school dance. She remembers her own experiences, the soft blue of her dress, the elaborate hairstyle her mom had spent most of the afternoon creating, the butterflies that had taken flight in her abdomen and kept up a steady dance until her date had ditched her to kiss another girl in the middle of the dance floor.

It'd ruined her night, to say the least. And at 17, Kate Beckett had lacked the confidence that she'd found during college when a boy had cheated on her. She'd slunk out of the dance and gone back home, ignored any and all references to the night. Spent all of twenty minutes at her senior prom the following year before heading to a gig with her grunge rocker boyfriend who had let her drink herself into a couple of decisions that she still questions almost sixteen years later.

Since then, she's never enjoyed high school dances. In fact, her memories of high school are an odd patchwork of stupid decisions, memorable nights, and heart break. Not all of the fond memories that Ryan, Esposito and Castle have been flooding her with during the case - detentions cast aside.

Kate stops just inside the door, presses her body back into the shadows of the wall while the band continues to play. She's decided not to chase after Castle, to hold her ground until he's completed whatever mission brought them to the dance and then go home for a long bath and a glass of red wine.

She never expects for Castle to slide up next to her as the song changes to a slower beat, how gentle he is when he takes her hand or how willingly she leaves her perch against the wall to follow him onto the dance floor.

"Castle, what are you doing?" Her question is voiced quietly, her breath stuttering in her throat as he places her left hand on his shoulder. It doesn't help when that his own left hand draws a smooth path along her arm and down her side, pressing with a calm assurance against her waist to pull her closer to his chest.

"Dancing," he responds easily, a slight twinkle in his eyes once their bodies begin to sway with the beat, "Because the next time we do this? You'll be wearing a gown, and have a new last name. I needed at least one dance with you before that happens - a dance with Kate."

She can't stop the smile that blooms across her face, so completely overwhelmed and in love with the man in front of her. He doesn't have a clue about her history with school dances, isn't pushing to right some wrong that a boy she barely remembers did to her. He's thinking ahead, focused on a future that fills Kate with so much joy and happiness that she sometimes thinks her heart will burst.

She loves him. Every single cell of her body, every facet of her mind are so completely in love with him that she can't imagine why she wasted years denying it. And now he's hers, and they are getting married.

"Okay, Castle," Kate breathes, "Let's dance."


	2. Chapter 2 Witchcraft

_A/N: You can also find these on my tumblr - alwayswritewithcoffee _

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><p>"Kate, Kate, Kate," her name comes as a steady chant, and she's just far enough on the side of tipsy to find it funny rather than annoying.<p>

Castle is slumped next to her, the mutter of her name on repeat while an empty margarita glass dangles from his fingertips. They had both stopped counting around the fourth one, but followed it up with a shot of whiskey that Kate knows will be responsible for the raging hangover she will have in the morning.

But it's hard to be upset, least of all due to the copious amount of alcohol she's consumed. The Hamptons are crawling with people, Manhattan's upper crust come to while away the hottest months of the year, and their trip hadn't arrived without their pick of fancy cocktail parties and garden barbecues.

Instead, they'd found the shabbiest bar on the shore. Some run down dive that was only inhabited by the locals, its interior full of cracked nautical gear, whitewashed boards, and a karaoke set up that looked absurdly out of place with its high tech flat screens and shiny black finish. She had even teased Castle about singing when they'd stumbled through the door, had poked her tongue between her teeth in that teasing gesture which she knew drove him mad.

The margarita's had seemed the obvious choice for a humid summer afternoon. The taste of salt at the rim of the glass matching the smell of the sea, while the burn of the liquid down her throat had matched the heat of Castle's eyes while he had watched Kate purse her lips around the lime and suck the hollow of the fruit slice dry.

She had done it on purpose, just as he had pressed his fingers across her inner thigh and drawn shapes on the bare skin visible below the hem of her denim shorts. And then he'd kept it up, a steady caress that had driven her towards downing another full margarita and trying not to thrust her hips towards his fingers inside the confines of the booth.

So she had dared him to a drinking contest, dared him into a distraction that had left them slumped against each other in the booth, giggling like teenagers on a first date. Stealing sloppy kisses even while Castle's hands continued to caress and tease.

She should have remembered that he likes to touch things - especially after a few drinks. But she had forgotten, had challenge him to a contest and now ooh, now she was going to lose because of how he chants her name against the shell of her ear, how his fingers are finding paths underneath the hem of her shorts, the edge of her shirt.

"Castle…." she gasps it out, her hands giving a firm press against his shoulders, "Come on, babe, we need to go."

"No, Kate,' the words are a whine, the sound of a little boy being told he's about to lose his favorite toy, "I wanna stay. You promised me a song…." And then he's pouting at her, a expression full of sad eyes and extended bottom lip. It's one that makes her tip her head back and laugh, draw him in close to tug that same lip between her teeth as she kisses him.

He growls in response, a sound that shoots straight to her gut and makes it very difficult not to ignore the public setting and allow him to have his way in a corner booth. Kate knows that's as much the alcohol pounding through her blood as her desire for the man next to her, and that resolve crumples a bit more as his hand sneaks under her white tank top and skims across the strip of skin at her waist.

"Sing me a song and I'll take you home," he drawls against her ear, the tone of his voice so self-assured and possessive that she wonders if he's only pretending to be completely drunk, "You know you want to go home, Kaatte," Rick practically sings her name, chuckling a little at himself while she rolls her eyes.

"If I sing, you sing," Kate challenges, bending her head so she can capture his earlobe between her teeth for a brief tug, is rewarded with the stuttering of his breath and the tightening of his hands on her skin as he ushers her out of the booth and up towards the small raised platform.

It takes three minutes of quiet arguments, of soft kisses and teasing touches before they can agree on a song. But Kate warbles out Frank Sinatra's 'Witchcraft' with gusto, swaying slightly from the alcohol and laughing madly as her fiancee performs some sort of interpretive dance. It's a terrible rendition, an utterly embarrassing one, but she can't regret it as the song comes to a close with Castle dipping her dramatically and smacking a loud kiss against her lips.


	3. Chapter 3 Little Girl

_A/N: Inspired by Beckett's line in 6X16 'Your dad loves you, he worries about you.'_

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><p>It's the third night since Alexis' dramatic exit from the loft when Kate wakes to the slight chill of late Autumn at her back. Even though it's well past 2 a.m., Manhattan and all of its noise bounces through the window - sirens, speeding taxis, the yells of late night explorers off to the next party or a 24-hour diner.<p>

None of that phases Kate, its the sound of the city. Her city. It's as comforting as a lullaby or the sound of summer rainstorm. No, its the absence of sound, the lack of Castle's familiar warmth and soft snores at her back that stops her short and draws her out of the cocoon of blankets.

Her heart breaks a little when she finds him sitting on the stairs that lead to Alexis and Martha's bedrooms. He holds a large brown album in his hands that Kate can see has been well-loved through the years, and she knows without ever having peeked inside that the photos are of Alexis. Castle has remained quiet, pensive in his mood while he tries to accept the choices that his daughter has made.

And, in direct response, Kate has held her tongue with the benefit of having once been a teenage girl at odds with her father. But, even with that experience, it's an awkward position to be in. This 'no man's land' where she is to marry this man and become family, though a piece of it keeps her at arms length and there are more moments of feeling like an intruder than a part of the club.

Kate lives in a perpetual state of imbalance, desperate to worm her way into this quirky little family unit but so afraid of tipping the scale in the wrong direction.

So she treads carefully, tip-toeing across the line to gently push Castle when he needs it. Retreating for a safe distance on the occasions that Alexis is around, always making herself scarce, always giving them space to be a family.

But, now, that family is fractured and she's spent three days watching the man she loves suffer in quiet.

"Castle," she whispers his name, her fingers diving into the soft hair that curls against his neck. He doesn't lift his head from the album, though his shoulders hitch slightly with a shaking breath and the crown of his head falls forward to rest against the flat plane of her stomach. "You can't hold yourself responsible for Alexis leaving. It was her choice."

"I know that," Rick responds immediately, his voice cracking on the final word, "I do but I….she's my little girl, Kate. The one thing I've always depended on for twenty years and I don't…..I don't know what to do."

"You do what you've always done," her voice is soft, gentle in the way she approaches both the broken man in front of her and the situation she's been pushed into, "You act like her father. Let her get this out of her system, live with a boy in an awful apartment and be angry. I know it seems like it's the end of the world but, eventually, Alexis will come around. Pi won't be here forever, Castle. You will be."

The seconds tick by, only the steady rise and fall of their breaths marking the time but gradually he shifts, tugging Kate into the fold of his left arm, drawing her to him like a moth to a flame.

When he tilts his head up to kiss her, she can taste the salt on his lips and see the tear tracts but she doesn't comment. Instead she gives what he so desperately needs from her, comfort that this too shall pass and reassurance that he is, indeed, an incredible father.

That night is the first of many where Kate sits curled in the circle of his arms, listening to stories and perusing photos of Castle's life with Alexis. And with each photo and each word, Kate falls a little more in love with him.


	4. Chapter 4 Role Reversal

_A/N: From a tumblr prompt 'Beckett proposes to Castle at the end of Watershed', by castleramblings. Strictly AU. _

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><p>The realization of what she wants comes to her in the middle of the interrogation room. It strikes with the blow of a dozen fists, and leaves Kate struggling to find a breath as the prick of tears cloud her vision.<p>

It had been all bravado before with her dad. The voice of that stubborn and terrified woman who found it easier to bury herself in work and run from emotional entanglements. Though she hadn't lied to her dad, she _did_ want the job. She _does_ want the job.

She just wants Castle more.

Kate is still caught somewhere in the seriousness of her decision, the weight of what her subconscious had decided, when she calls Castle. And she's grateful that he agrees to meet, that he's still too wounded by her perceived betrayal to question why she chose the swings - their swings - as the meeting point.

If he were on his game, Richard Castle would smell the significance. He would be sitting alert and suspicious, blue eyes flickering rapidly between the park and the street to try and piece the story together. Instead, she finds him hunched over, wearing the body language of a man who has arrived already defeated.

And her heart cracks a little as she approaches, filled with regret about how she handled the entire situation, aching to repair the hurt that she has caused. She needs to explain, she needs to soothe his worries, take responsibility for her actions.

He doesn't even look up as she sits next to him, eyes cast outward as if he's waiting for the final blow. It takes all of her power to restrain herself from reaching out to touch him, from blurting out all the things that are pressing against her chest and ready to escape. Her lungs feel like they are on fire, her hands are sweaty, and she takes a deep, measured breath, releases some of that tension. Forces herself to focus.

"I'm sorry," she begins quietly, sincerity dripping from her words that is echoed by her resolve to finish what she came here for, "I shouldn't have kept secrets."

Kate isn't the only one who has arrived with determination. She can see it the moment Castle bends his head in a nod, his quiet acceptance of her apology. "It's who you are," he fires back, no real heat to the words, but a soft acceptance that further intensifies the ache in her bones over what she has done with a such a small secret. "You don't let people in. I've had to scratch and claw for every inch…"

It's all she can take, her eyes fluttering closed for a beat as a puff of air releases from her mouth, followed by his name, "Castle…" she has to stop him, has to explain herself and her decision.

"Please, let me finish," Rick replies, that same quiet tone to his words. But she can't do it, she _can't_ sit there for another moment while her own words burn at her throat.

"No," she says quietly, jumping to her feet so that she stands in front of him, "I don't need you to finish. I need you to listen to me, to look at me when I tell you that I'm sorry." Kate places her fingers underneath his chin, gently tilts Rick's face upward and then she waits until his reluctant eyes flick towards her own. "Hi," she breathes after a beat, tamping down on the urge to kiss him because, damn it to hell, she absolutely loves him.

"I love you," Kate whispers, taking in the way his eyes flutter and the tension in his jaw relaxes as her fingers splay across his cheek, "And I am so sorry that I kept that interview from you. It was childish, and it was wrong. You deserved to know, but, Castle," she needs another deep breath then, another pause to control the rapid pounding of her heart, the thunder of her blood in her ears, "I got the job. And I want to take it."

She knows the moment the words register, because the pain and the bright flare of panic burns his sky blue eyes a shade darker. And she internally curses herself for how nerves and excitement are getting the better of her and further ruining something which she came to repair. So Kate stutters into action, drawing herself down to brush a kiss against his forehead, his cheek, the bow of his upper lip. "But I won't do it, not without you," she adds softly, her dark eyes locked on his so that he cannot miss her intentions, her seriousness, "Because, Richard Castle, you are what I want. Far more than any job."

The smile she is rewarded with is slow to come, but it begins in his eyes. It burns away the panic and the pain, leaves nothing but a staggering amount of love that almost brings Kate to her knees. She's left breathless by it, powerless against it, as Castle tips his head upward to kiss her on the mouth, and the words rise up. They fill in the spaces between her bones, ignite her blood, and give her courage to voice them as they kiss.

She releases them when break apart, both of her hands caressing his face as they stare at one another, "Marry me, Castle."

It's long after he's laughed and told her yes, after he shows her the ring he's had stored in the wall safe at the loft, after they've celebrated their engagement with a long afternoon of naked bodies pressed together that she realizes she didn't phrase it as a question.

But she can spin a theory, wrapped in the circle of Castle's arms, that was because there was never any doubt. Her heart knew the answers long before her mind.


	5. Chapter 5 Baby

_A/N: Based off a tumblr prompt from howthisworks_caskett: ' Beckett tells Castle she's ready to start trying for a baby'. Set sometime in Season 7._

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><p>"And she was a brave warrior, the knight known round the realms for her bravery and skill in defeating the dragon which had threatened the kingdoms for so long. But though the King offered her any manner of rewards, be they riches or land, they were all declined," the low rumble of Castle's voice meets Kate's ears like a caress, gently pulling her from the nap that she couldn't remember falling into in the first place.<p>

When she opens her eyes, her husband is on the floor with the full attention of a fourteen month old Sarah Grace Ryan. The girls head full of blonde curls jiggles as she bounces in time to the cadence of the fairytale, her tiny legs working furiously while her hands wave wildly in the air.

It's a precious and beautiful image, one which prompts Kate to linger on the couch and watch as Sarah Grace's brown eyes trace Castle's face and then split into a grin which is only broken by the appearance of tiny teeth.

And then Rick chuckles, his lips pressing a smacking kiss to her rosy cheek, "Until the King offered the one thing the knight truly wanted - him. A life with happiness and laughter, a place where she was loved. And so they married, and lived happily ever after in a world where the Knight continued to slay dragons and the King continued to talk of the brave feats his wife accomplished."

She chuckles at that, pushing herself up onto her elbows in order to lean forward and drop her own surprise kiss against Castle's jaw, "Hmmm, I feel like I've heard that one before," Kate teases against the shell of his ear, grinning in response to a second gummy smile from the girl in Rick's arms.

"Hello there precious girl," she coos, so completely taken with Sarah Grace and the breathtaking ability which Castle has with children.

She's as certain that he was born to be father as she is about how desperately in love she is. And then its like Kate is struck by lightning, the suddenness in which she decides that she wants this with him flaring bright and hot under her skin, pushing the breath from her lungs with enough force that it ruffles the soft strands that frame his ears.

And it earns her a look over his shoulder, a unspoken question in his blue eyes as Sarah Grace babbles at them in an effort to turn their attention back on her. But he doesn't immediately engage the baby, his eyes raking over his wife to try and decipher what her mind is turning with.

Kate knows it isn't the time. That her quiet realization should be saved for later this evening when Sarah Grace has been returned to her parents, when they are decompressing with a glass of red wine but she can't keep it in.

So she savors it, letting the desire for a family with Castle fill her up. It's the same buoyant sense of joy, the contentment and utter conviction that this is right. It's the same sensation she had when she accepted his proposal, when they exchanged vows in an impromptu trip to City Hall one Monday afternoon in May. "I think we should get one of these," she whispers into his ear, a full smile on her face as her eyes meet his for the moment her words register.

Castle is looking at her with awe, shock, and a bit of reverence that she's sure she doesn't deserve, but it makes her heart thump faster in her chest anyway. "Yes," the word falls out of his mouth a second later, a brilliant flash of teeth in the moment before he kisses her, "A million times, yes."

She isn't surprised, when, four months later, two pink lines appear on a pregnancy test.

When they announce it to their precinct family it's by gifting Sarah Grace a t-shirt that reads 'I'm getting a cousin!". After all, it was a weekend with her that sparked the whole thing.


	6. Chapter 6 Confirmation

_A/N: Tumblr prompt from dangfan, 'Rise - "I'm not gonna have the kind of relationship..." - Castle asks for confirmation that Beckett is talking about them.' AU, obviously._

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><p>Their conversation at the swing set sits with him for days, slowly churning around until it's all that he can think about. The conviction and honesty of her words, the determination that burned in her eyes to find justice for her mother, to settle the score with the demon who tried to rob her of her own life.<p>

Rick finds his own sort of peace with it at first, some measure of himself that accepts that those words were the only apology Kate can currently give. That part of him is also the hopeless romantic, the man who is sure that if he bides his time and patiently waits that all will be rewarded.

The rest of his mind poses a problem. That is the part who has been burned by too many women, taken too many lovers into his bed, experienced crippling heartbreak at the hands of females who used the depth of his emotion against him. His heart tells him that Kate Beckett is not that woman, that she asked for time to be ready to face what he believes they have together, his mind knows that she is merely human and terrified of commitment.

And, ever so slowly, that part of his mind eats away at his confidence.

By Kevin and Jenny's wedding, he's an emotional wreck, so completely insecure and uncertain about where he stands with Kate. The teasing banter, the searching looks, the flirting and the secret smiles all lead him to believe that she is trying, that she is getting better, but they never talk. In fact, they have never acknowledged the conversation again since his reference to it about a week after her confession.

He wants her completely. Mind, body and soul, scars both emotional and physical. It's beyond his comprehension that he is longer capable of loving someone in the way that he loves Katherine Beckett, and every day, every hour, the ache of not having her, not being the one she loves in return - that pain grows stronger. It whispers doubts in his ear, convinces him of unthinkable endings that turn his loving and gentle spirit into one that burns hot with rage and bitterness.

Rick is fighting another one of those emotional wars as he takes a turn on the dance floor, pretending not to be watching as Javier and Kate laugh as they spin around the room. It's Lanie's soft cluck against his ear that snaps him out of it, her sigh as she begins to lead him in a direct path towards their friends.

"Dance with this fool so he will stop stepping on my feet," she tells Kate, pressing her willowy frame towards his. Rick's hands bracket her waist on instinct, the smell and feel of her so close already surging through his veins and beginning a steady drum of longing in his gut. All he can do is match the shy smile she gives, watch her slim fingers tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear as they sway to the beat of the song.

"You are a good dancer, Castle," Kate offers the compliment freely, the lightest hint of pink staining her cheekbones as she chuckles, "I don't think I told you that last time."

No, she hadn't told him that all those years ago when her hair had been stylishly short, her patience thin, and their partnership as precarious as an infant taking her first steps. But he can't imagine he was as good on the dance floor with her as he is now. Rick can't remember if they fit together so easily, if his hand curved into the dip at her lower back as perfectly as it does now. He knows that there was no sparkle in her eye, no indicator that she was enjoying being in such close quarters with him. The slight upward curl of her mouth, the pleased sigh as she places her head against his shoulder - all of that is born from how well they now know one another, how much trust and history they share.

He's arrested by the emotions, that sudden swell of adoration and love that so frequently presents itself when Beckett is nearby. For a moment he's sure that he will choke on it, pour it all out against the caramel curls of her hair and be devastated while she shuts him down, forever ending this hopeless fantasy that runs so vividly in his head.

And that makes him ache, the knot of desperation and need for her joining all of the rest of it. The breath he releases is loud, passing through his lips as a breathless plea, his very last action before he makes his mind up to find some sort of resolution or hint to calm his fears. Living like this, with this pain and unknowing limbo is not something he can sustain.

So he whispers it to her, paints against those glorious curls with a call of her name.

"Mmm?" Kate doesn't even shift, only her voice and the squeeze of her fingers against his waist the signal that she heard him.

He tries three times to form the words, all of them catching hopelessly in his throat only to tumble out in a rush of emotion, the syllables hitching and stuttering over the crown of her head, "That day on the swings…your wall….you were talking about us, weren't you? Bringing that down so we could try…." he leaves the rest of the sentence undefined, too arrested by the softness that he finds in her eyes when they rise to meet his.

"Yes, Castle," she answers, her voice steady and sure, "You are the only person I want. No one else."

If things were different, if she were ready, he'd kiss her, whisper just how much he adores her, how entrancing she is. But things aren't different, she isn't yet his to kiss and to love, though that day is coming.

For now, he's content to share a dance.


	7. Chapter 7 Introduction

_A/N: Part of an ongoing meme on my tumblr of one word prompts. This one is 'Introduction'. _

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><p>She meets Richard Castle in the dead of winter, all because of his eyes.<p>

It's that piercing blue gaze that calls out to her, the thing that sets the book apart as it sits on its shelf with a dozen other bestsellers inside the Denver airport. Those eyes capture her interest, lure her further into the small storefront filled with books, magazines and newspapers. The slight curl of the author's mouth, the hint of mischief and cleverness, it brings a surge of want and curiosity slithering through her blood that surprises her. It's officially the first time she has felt anything but all encompassing grief and sadness since her mother died, the first time that anything has truly held her interest.

For that feeling alone, she buys the book with a single swipe of her dad's credit card, a quiet thank you to the clerk who tells her "It's a thriller." before passing the book and the receipt over to her.

It isn't until she's opened the front cover, completely devoured the first page that Katie realizes the book is a mystery. By the fourth page the murder has already been committed, and the police detectives are on the scene to look for clues that, in the final chapter, will put the person responsible into jail.

That streamlined resolution calls to her in a way that perhaps nothing else has before in her young nineteen years. She knows with certainty that the killer will be caught in these pages, that the justice her mother will likely never receive won't befall the unfortunate victim.

And so she reads. The book, the words of Richard Castle become her companion inside a cold and impersonal airport. They follow her as she boards her plane back to New York, laden down with two suitcases stuffed full of items meant for California sunshine, frat parties and night-long study sessions. The suitcases hold a past that she no longer cares about, while the book holds the promise of a future that already fills her with anticipation even though the outline is hazy at best.

She reads as the plane continues its predetermined path, eyes hungrily absorbing the final paragraph just before the aircraft begins its descent into Queens. It's absurdly fitting that she finishes the book while suspended in air, caught between her old life of Stanford, beaches and sunshine and her hometown with its gridlocked streets and bitter winters.

The wheels of the plane jostle the interior as she closes the book, as the sense of peace overwhelms Katie. The family got their justice, the killer got their punishment and all remained right with the world. The system works, life does go on, and somehow she can breathe a little easier.

She buys a second book by Richard Castle before she hails a cab towards her Tribeca neighborhood where Katie meets Derrick Storm, super spy.


	8. Chapter 8 Bright Lights

_Inspired by a photo on Tumblr which I can't link you too because this website's interface sucks. _

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><p>They're both giddy with excitement, drunk on the feel of calling each other husband and wife, stealing kisses between visits with guests who offer congratulations. They wind their way through the tables with their hands clasped together, Kate unable to contain her smile as his wedding ring clicks against her own pair, as he bends down to whisper how beautiful she looks into her ear.<p>

The reception is everything she had hoped, full of friends and family celebrating with one another, but when the party winds into is third hour with no sign of slowing down. Kate goes off in search of her husband, tucking her head in the space underneath his chin and burying the shy smile that forms when she feels his lips grace the crown of her head.

"Hi, honey," he mumbles, and Kate has to suck in a long draw of breath to fight the wave of want that floods her veins along with the oxygen that pours into her lungs. She can feel the vibration of his words, suppresses the shiver that curls across her spine, but tightens her hold around his waist.

She doesn't reply to him, either. Instead rising up onto her toes to direct him in a gentle kiss, one that quickly morphs into more as Rick's tongue pushes past the seam of her lips and draws a quiet groan from his wife. They are slow to part, Kate's teeth scraping over the swollen pad of his bottom lip rather than merely releasing him from her hold. And he has to sigh, pull her flush against his chest to nuzzle his nose over the hard line of her jaw and the soft skin of her neck, his own teeth leaving a light impression against the creamy skin that leaves Kate's fingers fisting in his white dress shirt.

"Come on, Mrs. Castle, I think the party can do without us," he whispers, the impression of his smile stretching against the curve of her neck as Kate lets out a peal of laughter that fills him with joy.

They sneak out once she locates her shoes at the corner of the dance floor, slipping through to the kitchen like two laughing teenagers. Rick keeps her hand firmly in his own even when she pauses to slip the four-inch heels onto her feet, lingers to pull him in for another soft kiss in the space before he can hail a cab to take them to a destination that remains unknown. The smile he gives Kate is as bright as the lights of the city that shine around them from their position on the street, sending her heart thumping rapidly in her chest as she leans against the solid bulk of her husband and soaks it all in.


	9. Chapter 9 Loss

_Prompt on tumblr from dang fan:_ _While walking side by side a shot rings out and instantly fells Castle who lies in a puddle of spreading red. Kate knows immediately he will not survive. Curious how one might write her guttural pain. _**Trigger/General warning for character death, murder, blood etc. **

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><p>In the end, it happens so quickly that neither of them could have hoped to prepare.<p>

One minute life proceeds as normal, strolling along Greene Street with two lattes, discussing the upcoming plan for a long weekend in the Hamptons and Castle's anxiety over Alexis' determination to bring her new boyfriend along for an official "Meet the Parent" outing.

The next she's on the ground, frantically using her stripped off blazer to try and staunch the sticky slide of blood where it pours from the bullet wound in his chest. And it's hard to hold on to her sanity with a shot from what is surely a long-range rifle pounding in her ears, Kate has to actively tamp down against the rolling wave of panic that sizzles through her blood and brings up memories of when their positions were reversed. It's, without fail, the hardest thing she's ever had to do, to hold on to reality and force herself to remain in the moment and try to save Rick's life.

She gradually comes back to the world as his skin looses its color, when the brilliant sparkle of mischief leeches into a darker blue that telegraphs pain and fear. She can hear someone calling the cops, asking for an ambulance because a man has been shot. There are car horns honking and, somewhere in the concrete canyon of Manhattan, sirens blaring that promise help.

But Kate spends her life seeped in death, knows all to well what a body looks like when the blood stops flowing and a heart stops beating. She knows how much blood a body must lose to slip into shock, and that the puddle from Castle is expanding at a rate that guarantees he isn't long for this world.

Trying not to cry is useless, and though she begs him not to waste strength with talking to her it's a request that he ignores. Instead, he gives Kate a wide smile, grunting with the effort it takes to lift a hand and rest it against her cheek. Rather than smooth, comforting warmth, she's met with cool, clammy skin.

She tries not to think about what that means.

But she does know what it means and, God, it threatens to rip her soul from her body. Hell, she'd take the bullet herself if it meant the man she loves isn't bleeding out a dirty sidewalk with half of SoHo watching.

"I love you, Kate, so much," he rasps, chest heaving with the effort to force out those words, "Alexis…mother…." Castle's blue eyes are almost translucent as they roll towards the sky, taking in the clouds and the buildings that surround them before slowly drifting back to her.

"I know, Rick," she chokes on his first name, stutters over the R and the K in turn as tears fall thick and fast, "I love you, too."

She leans over him at the last moment, whispering those same words against his mouth and pressing all of her weight against his chest. A last ditch effort, desperation and love against inescapable inevitability, but its all she has and Kate refuses to let him exit the world without knowing she's done her all to keep him here, with her where he belongs.

But she knows the second Richard Castle stops drawing breath, when his heart pumps its last beat and he whispers his final words to her, encourages her to do the thing he can no longer do, the thing she stopped doing when her mother was cruelly taken.

He told her to live.


	10. Chapter 10 Expectations

_Another in the ongoing numbers meme on my tumblr. This one is #33. Expectations. Could take place around 6X21. _

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><p>There is no denying that they haven't really done a great job planning the wedding when, with three weeks to go, they have neither flower arrangements or a wedding party. A venue had been scrapped together with luck, calling in of favors, and Rick's rather hefty bank account taking a sizable dent, and with it had come cake, food, and drinks to serve the guest list that was still unnaturally large after an entire week of trimming the excess.<p>

In fact, Rick has given very little thought to who should stand with him at his wedding. Damian Westlake had done so when he'd married Meredith, a best man of nostalgia and convenience, and he hadn't had one at all for marrying Gina. Neither of them had really made a fuss about it, far too involved in creating a spectacle of the reception and impressing all the guests with it.

He's not surprised when Kate mentions that Lanie will be her maid of honor and her only attendant. His fiancee is not the sort of woman who needs or wants gaggles of them waiting on her beck and call, hovering and chorusing praise in groups. Kate is a woman who is selective in her friendships, who fosters the sort that last for a lifetime. While someone like Maddie is a friend, it's been Lanie whom has sat in the front row for their relationship and has largely been one of their greatest supporters.

It's not that she needs him to agree with her choice, but Rick finds that he absolutely does even when, in the same breath, he is wondering why Alexis didn't make the list. Of course his daughter and Kate aren't as close as they once were, will likely never be as close as he wants them to be in his dreams, but he's surprised that the omission stings his fatherly pride and need for their unconventional and slightly fractured family to join together in a seamless unit.

But Rick buries it, fosters a blinding smile and a sound kiss on Kate. He watches the way her mouth stretches in a smile that is downright giddy in excitement, the sparkle that lights up her eyes, the bounce in her step that screams how ready she is to be married and completely his.

It's later that night when she lies naked against him, body warm and sated that the same thoughts begin to turn. The steady current of 'what if' and 'but' further exhaust his mind, place a strain on his body and emotional state with memories of how much Gina had fought to be involved with Alexis and how fiercely he had guarded his only child from being hurt by another woman.

He isn't surprised to discover when, at 3 a.m., that his flame-haired young woman (because Alexis is so rarely a child these days) is perched at the counter and pouring over a binder that is overflowing with notes. She looks a little embarrassed to be caught as she highlights nearly every line of one page in bright yellow, though the look melts into quiet defiance that dares Rick to mock her.

But he doesn't, instead pressing a kiss against her temple and padding to the other side of the island to pour two glasses of milk.

Alexis has produced the brand new package of chocolate chip cookies before he has even placed the glass in front of her, a grin on her face that momentarily reminds him of the precocious five year old that he feels just yesterday ran out the door for her first day of school.

But Alexis is all grown up, a sophomore in college who is ready to start her own life. She doesn't need him, or her mother, or her grandmother in all the ways he's used too and, sometimes, he thinks it might kill him.

"What has you up in the middle of the night?" Alexis phrases the question gently, dunking one end of her cookie into the milk before drawing that half into her mouth. Even munching on a cookie, his kid looks intelligent.

"I…" Rick hedges on his answer, buying time with his own business of dunking a cookie and eating it. But Alexis is too old for games of distraction, too observant of the world to let him slide by so easily, and he relents under the blue gaze so like his own, "Are you upset that Kate didn't ask you to be in the wedding? She told me today that she only asked Lanie and I was worried, am worried, about what that says to you."

He doesn't make mention of the lingering issues that he suspects Alexis has with Kate, that he has neglected in encouraging the both of them to spend time together. So much of his life has been with Kate and with Alexis, the paths rarely crossing although they now share the same space.

God, for all the things he's done right, there are others that he's gotten terribly wrong. They all have.

"I…no…" she replies immediately, brows drawn together like this question is a tough one to answer. And maybe it is, Rick certainly can't pretend to know when he considers his 'hands off' approach. "I don't think it says anything, if Beckett only wants one person, then why shouldn't it be the woman she's closest too?" Alexis follows it with a shrug, a drunk of another cookie but there's something in her tone, some carefully guarded opinion that she is hiding away, unwilling to let her own father see.

"Pumpkin, if you are upset you can tell me, I'm not going to get angry with you…." he's barely started explaining when Alexis meets his eyes dead on, red hair bouncing as she shakes her head.

"I'm not upset. I guess I just thought if Beck…_Kate_…was going to pick someone else, she would pick Esposito," the young girl says this like it is the most obvious idea in the world, some long drawn conclusion, "I know she and Lanie are close but Beckett and Esposito seem just as, if not moreso."

It's an assessment that Rick can't deny, thinking of all the times where Espo has reached Kate through the years when his own attempts failed. The two of them operate on some other plane, years of working together long before he entered the picture, of backgrounds shaped by loss and tragedy, growing up young and carrying burdens that no one should bear.

Yeah, Esposito wouldn't be a bad choice but the expectation had been to choose a woman. Not only that, but that the bride be attended by a party of women and he, as the groom, be attended by a party of men - even if those men and women weren't people who necessarily deserved to be there. Even in a relationship as untraditional and barrier bending as their own, some things were ingrained.

When the realization comes, its lightning quick in its clarity, filling him with a pleasant buzz. The notion also brings a smile to his mouth as Rick dunks his second cookie. He eats it in full, drains the milk from his glass before ever taking a step around the island but Alexis still sees him coming, still spins her body to face her father with an eyebrow quirked and a question on her lips.

But he puts a stop to it by holding up one hand, using his other to draw his daughters smaller one into his own and grin at her. It's only once their linked hands are resting against his chest that he speaks, his voice gravely serious though Rick's eyes are dancing in delight, "Alexis Harper Castle, I do think I'd like nothing more than if you were my best man."

The smile he receives from his little girl is enormous, turning her eyes unnaturally bright, showing him nearly all of her perfect white teeth in the moments before she's wrapped her arms around him in a huge hug. "Of course, dad. I'd love too! Can I wear a suit?"

"You can wear whatever you want, Pumpkin," he answers, cradling his not-so-grown-up kid against his chest just for a moment longer.

It's when Alexis pulls away that he sees the emerald green flash of a t-shirt as Kate turns to return to their bedroom, giving him a soft smile and a thumbs up before she disappears into the shadows of his office.


	11. Chapter 11 Family

_Another from the numbers meme. This one is #49 Family. _

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><p>"You're kidding," the two words fall out of Castle's mouth freely, aided by the wide set of his blue eyes and a mouth that, a full minute later, is still hanging open in shock. "You've never put a peep in the microwave?"<p>

Even Martha and Alexis are peering at Kate with something close to sympathy, though the redheads are able to hide it with a bit more talent than Castle. And really, what is so wrong with wanting to eat her lavender sugar-coated marshmallows versus blowing them up inside the microwave.

Kate Beckett liked her candy without a dose of electromagnetic radiation, and she wasn't going to apologize for it.

"I usually just eat my candy, Castle," she replies, gently prying the bottom layer from one of her tiny chickens as Rick releases a grunt of disbelief and abandons his green toothpick turned lightsaber to snag her wrist before the sugary confection actually makes it into her mouth.

"Beckett, you are killing me. No peep in this house has ever just been eaten before heading into the heat of battle," he says, voice gravely serious as Alexis' gingery-red hair bobs in agreement. "This is a Castle tradition and you have to participate. It's our thing."

"He's right, darling, even I concede to a battle or two each year," Martha says, gesturing into the air with enough force that the wine inside her glass sloshes dangerously towards the rim.

It's on her tongue to protest, to merely insist that the trio continue on with their dramatic massacre of the poor peeps without her. Kate finds it adorable, one more layer to Castle's life with Alexis and his mother, one more family tradition that they approach with gusto but, no matter how cute, that small part of her that still shies away from family interaction hesitates and remains content to be a spectator.

Ultimately, it's Alexis who wins her over with a shy but encouraging smile. The two of them still co-exist in some rocky relationship that places them somewhere between friend and family, a spot which neither of them define or probably even analyze. But Kate knows that this is almost a test of sorts from the young woman, as much a challenge as an open invitation to join in a sacred family tradition that further turns her from Katherine Beckett to Katherine Beckett Castle.

She meets the clear blue eyes of Rick's only daughter for a solid ten seconds, her own green pair certain and calm in her decision as Kate snags another chicken from her cellophane wrapped package and drops it onto the paper plate that holds Castle's bright yellow, Alexis' neon pink and Martha's rather demure blue. It's a pastel explosion that pops against the white background.

But it's the happy smile she receives from both Alexis and her grandmother that sticks with Kate most of all when she reaches for the small container that holds all the weapons which one can choose for battle inside the raging inferno of the microwave.

She's still rooting around for a bow and machete when Castle's broad hands hook around her waist from behind, his mouth gentle against the curve of her neck and his breath curling against the shell of her ear. "You are magnificent, thank you for doing this with us," he whispers, dropping one final kiss against the sensitive skin behind her ear before he's letting her go and crowing about his inevitable victory.

Kate doesn't even try to hide her laugh when Castle's peep (who he named Thor just before he was gifted with a large hammer, naturally) emerges from battle in a gooey brown mess, bested by his mother and her diva chicken, Norma.

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><p><em>AN: Bonus points if you know whom Martha's peep, Norma, is named after. _


	12. Chapter 12 Take Me Out To The Ballgame

_Tumblr Prompt from mrs_chanadaler_bong_21: Caskett takes their kid(s) to a baseball game. _

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><p>"Ball, ball, ball, ball."<p>

At fourteen months, _ball_ is one of a quintet of words that Avery can manage. It's currently her favorite as she sits cradled in her father's arms, her vivid blue eyes watching with wide wonder as the players toss baseballs to one another during warm-ups.

From his position in their seats, Rick can see his wife as she leans against the railing, waiting on the dynamic duo that are their four-year-old twins. Where Jackson lives and breathes baseball, Evan truly only wanders down to the field level wall because his brother is a fanatic and the two boys are inseparable. Jack is balanced on his toes, just tall enough to see over the wall, his shoulders rising and falling as he takes rapid breaths.

The Yankees infield begins their stroll back towards the dugout as the Mets take up the same positions, the final leg in a lengthy pre-game process. Both of his sons wave at the teams as they pass, alternating cheering "Go Yankees!" or some variation thereof when the back-up second baseman stops in front of them. The player makes an under-handed soft toss from less than a foot away, the ball floating into Jack's outstretched glove with a soft 'plop'.

As his boy gasps and jumps in surprise, the infielder reaches over to give Evan a high-five and then both boys are running full tilt up the stairs with matching screams of 'DADDDD!" that make multiple heads turn in their direction and have Kate muttering apologies as she follows the two of them back to their seats.

"Avery, look!" Jackson presents the ball to his sister, who immediately lunges for the white object with a renewed round of her favorite word. Just that reach for his most treasured item earns a squawk of protest from his red-haired menace. It takes less than a minute for fat tears and a frustrated wail to burst out of his youngest, Avery unable to reach the ball where it lies trapped between Jack's chest and glove.

By the time everyone has been calmed and appeased with alternating turns holding the baseball, plied with various snacks and drinks, the game has started. They are into the fourth inning when Evan abandons his seat and crawls into Kate's lap, studying his parents with a gaze that both reminds Rick of his wife and Alexis in turn. 'Dad," Evan calls, leaning across the armrest to pat his father on the cheek, his green eyes solemn and serious, "This is the best day ever. I love baseball."

Kate has to hide the curve of her smile behind her hand, press her lips together to keep from laughing at the surprise and awe that passes over Rick's face. Of their three children, Evan is the quiet one, the child that is content to sit with books and coloring pages rather than acting out elaborate dramas. He isn't one to say much, so very much like his mother with the internalization of all that he feels and observes, and his quiet declaration makes Rick's heart skip just a beat, the easy smile on his face grow into some broad and bright.

"Yeah, dad, baseball is the best," Jackson echoes from Kate's right, the words muffled by half of the hot dog that he attempts to cram into his mouth before his mother intercepts with a sharp exclamation of his full name and a handful of napkins to wipe up the excess of condiments that stain his white Yankees jersey.

The motion of his wife on clean up duty sends Evan scurrying into his lap with Avery, her inexplicable white-blond curls ruffled by the breeze and Rick just drinks in this moment with two of the people dearest to him on a sunny spring afternoon.

It's well after Jack has been put somewhat to rights with his condiment stains, after Evan has settled back into the seat beside his brother, and Avery lulled to drowsiness by the gentle breeze and the warmth of her father's chest that Rick meets his wife's eyes and then draws her in for a kiss. Neither of them say a word, or even need to do so, because its all right there in both of their eyes. How lucky they are to have these three kids, to have made it through all the missteps and close calls to get to a spring afternoon and a Yankees game.

It's that simple every day magic that Kate had told him she believed in so many years ago, and he understands it now. That lure of the simple things in life like a baseball game and sticky fingers, a far more addictive and exciting element that ninjas and space aliens. The simple things are what make his life worth living and, as he shifts Avery in his arms, Rick decides that he couldn't be happier with how it turned out.


	13. Chapter 13 Traps

_Part of the numbers meme. #66 Traps. _

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><p>All things considered, he should have seen it coming. Hindsight was both a beautiful invention and a blasphemous idol that way, lining up to provide all the clues you needed to figure out the situation before you but, unfortunately, providing them all too late to be of any assistance.<p>

Backed up, literally, against a wall, Rick needs a whole lot of assistance and he knows instinctively that he isn't going to get it if only because he's strolled directly into being bait. He's surrounded by an advancing group of women, all armed and ready to shoot, stuck hiding against a wall with no clear way out. A trap, he's walked right into one.

And it's not just any trap. This is the trap of a woman who might be better called a siren, the sort of creature who holds people at her mercy, takes no prisoners, and always gets what she wants. Incredibly beautiful, astounding in her intelligence, she could bring a man of even greater constitution than himself to his knees with a mere curve of an eyebrow or crook of a finger.

It's very unfortunate that he's going to have to shoot such an enchanting and seductive embodiment of beauty.

But this is war and he absolutely will because, wife or not, the newly minted Katherine B. Castle won't be leaving as the victor. After all, how deadly could you really be while wearing a white dress that shows off every curve in a combination that makes his mouth water and the rest of him twitching with the need to remove it.

Rick can feel the bead of sweat trickle from his neck down along the line of his spine, the liquid seeping into the fabric of his dress shirt both a product of the exertion used to locate a hiding place and the humidity of the late spring night.

Pressing himself further against the wall, he focuses on slowing his breath, using his ears to pick up things which he can't see in the dim light that largely comes from the moon. There's a rustle of something to his far right, and a muffled thump to his left that's followed a by a giggle from, he guesses, either Lanie or Madison. Alexis is too stealthy to giggle, his mother far too content with her glass of wine and regaling other guests with stories of her escapades, and Kate….she wouldn't lure him out with a giggle.

He loses a good three minutes with the fantasy of what she would do, his mind conjuring visions of Kate pressed against him, mouths battling for dominance while his hands finally manage to work their way underneath that dress. But it's another laugh, this one even closer that snaps him out of the daze, and at the sound of approaching footsteps he decides to take the risk and run full steam ahead from the edge of the poolhouse towards the south wing of the main house and the sweeping view his office provides.

From there, he can reassess, signal his remaining troops and figure out just how to capture the flag.

"What took you so long?" Kate's voice practically purrs the words, bringing Rick to an immediate halt in the threshold of his office. For a moment he's frozen with indecision, far too curious as to how she stayed on step ahead and far too competitive to leave himself an easy target.

Rick settles for diving behind the closest armchair, pointing the end of his gun over the top of the upholstered piece and pulling the trigger.

Disappointment surges through him when there is no sudden flash of blue light and a robotic voice declaring the game over, instead he's only greeted by a throaty chuckle and Kate gliding into a patch of moonlight that makes her glow.

He's on his feet before he even realizes what he is doing, seizing her around the waist and pressing his lips against hers. He feels the immediate hum of approval vibrate through his mouth as they kiss, the twist of her fingers against the hair at the nape of his neck and the slow glide of her tongue against the seam of his lips.

They both groan in tandem when he parts them to allow her entrance, and suddenly its a blur of roaming hands, circling hips, and the path of his mouth over the expanse of her shoulders and collarbones. And he's so lost in the feel of her, the sharp taste of her perfume and the sea salt that hangs in the air, the smooth and creamy texture of her skin that Rick doesn't immediately react when his vest lights up green and Kate draws him to her mouth with a delighted peel of laughter.

"Oh, babe, that was so easy," she chuckles, soothing the sharp sting of his loss with another press of her tongue and the lure of her mouth, "You never can resist…."

He can see it now, the bright orange flag being waved over Madison's head as she stands on the beach with Jenny and Lanie at her side, the body language of an approaching Esposito and Ryan telling him they are just as surprised that the girls managed to get the jump on them. And its then that he notices Kate's own vest and gun on the table, one finger still curled around the trigger that dashed all his hopes of besting the bride and her favorite group of girls in their wedding reception round of laser tag.

"Despicable, using seduction to lure me into your trap," he growls against her skin, giving the underside of Kate's jaw a sharp drag of his teeth that has her clawing at his shoulder and sighing his name on a broken groan that reminds him of all the things he has planned for the next two weeks, of the quiet little secluded cottage and personal stretch of beach where clothing is blessedly optional.

"Come on, Kate Castle," Rick whispers against her ear, his grin stretching wide when she lights up like a kid at Christmas, "Time to celebrate - privately."


	14. Chapter 14 Selfie

A/N: Prompted via the following tumblr conversation.

_alwayswritewithcoffee I still have strong headcanon that they have selfie competitions, but uber professional Kate Beckett won't set them as her caller id screen. _

_dontgiveup88I accept your headcanon and add that Kate has folders filled of candids of Castle sleeping/writing/cooking. Her favourite being a moment she caught of him when he is looking at Alexis. Castle, the father is her favourite to photograph and she can't wait until she can take a photo of the first time he sees their kid._

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><p>She finds it funny that, four years later, something that started as a minor, kinky thing they did one night in bed has evolved to this. Photo after photo clutter the program on her laptop in an almost endless slideshow of their life together. Before Castle, Kate hadn't been a lot of things - almost zero interest in video games, or languid days spent in bed with nothing more to do than complete the crossword or kiss every inch of skin she could find.<p>

Her phone had been a tool for communication, a bridge between her busy job and the jumbled mess of her personal life. It was how she kept track of developments on cases, organized the occasional dinner with her father, checked a baseball score. She had no need for Facebook, or Twitter, only used the camera app when it was needed to document evidence.

Now her phone carried, literally, entire sections of her life. A Facebook account full of interactions with friends and family, a twitter which she only utilized to keep her husband's need to over share with his fans in check, and photos. Her photo collection bordered on obscene, documentation of everything from those lazy days in bed, to vacations on the beach, or ridiculous photos taken everywhere from the front seats of her cruiser to a jungle in the middle of Thailand.

Despite her intentions, Kate gets sucked into the the pull of nostalgia, one press of a button loading a screen full of photos in chronological order.

True to her memory, the first few are just the right combination of sexy and scandalous. Carefully composed, hands or mouths covering particular parts, always leaving the element of mystery, something to be both desired and remembered. The photos are merely unfiltered lust and passion, pupils blown wide, fingers clutching, mouths searching, and bodies arching towards the phone screen as they had pushed one another towards the edge of a cliff that had both sated them and made walking a bit of a challenge the following day.

That not so innocent exploration, and weeks of suggestive snaps and videos during Kate's brief stint in D.C., had led to the rest of it. Selfies with duck faces, blowfish faces, looking confused, looking scared, kisses on the cheek, on mouths, even one where Castle had surprised her on the beach and blown a raspberry against the sensitive skin of her neck, leaving her shrieking in laughter when the camera finally captured the moment.

She finds herself laughing at a photo from Cinco De Mayo, giant sombreros perched on their heads and glassy eyed grins, another one that she's intimately familiar with, snapped by her husband as they lay curled against one another in the Maldives, finally married, finally on a honeymoon after months of delay.

Kate had kept that one as the unlock screen for months, ignoring all suggestions that she change it lest someone see it and try to leverage her with information on her husband. She hadn't cared because, damn it, they had gone through hell to get to that moment. And even when she had tearfully returned her lock screen to something generic (elephants, of course), Castle had taken up the cause and left it in place on his phone until he had required a Christmas card selfie with Alexis, Martha and her father in Santa hats and elf ears.

But there still were others, photos of Castle in her favorite moments. An entire folder of them existed on both her laptop and her phone. Sleeping, cooking, lost in Nikki and Rook's world at his laptop, deep in concentration while playing a video game, studying over case files at the precinct. Others with Alexis, including the one that had made her heart stop with the complete love and adoration pouring from his eyes and the smile directed at his daughter as she adjusts her cap and gown in preparation for graduation from Columbia.

That had been a year ago, a year in which they had both adjusted to Alexis' being away from the city. No more dropping in from school, passing through to do laundry or eat dinner. Alexis was now across the country, finally at Stanford for graduate studies and in that time, their steady efforts to give the redhead a sibling had come up short.

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><p>He's absolutely running late, and the apology is ready on his lips the moment Rick has escaped the endless loop of Black Pawn contract negotiations. Nikki's adventure's are still going strong, the detective's professional life hanging by a couple of precarious threads while her personal life blossoms with finally accepting Rook's proposal of marriage.<p>

It had taken the journalist two books to wear her down. Elaborate popping of the question ignored for one intimate phrasing over pancetta infused mac and cheese, a bottle of red wine, and whispering in her ear. But heading into the penultimate phase of Nikki's saga had required negotiations.

Negotiations that had made him almost — _shit_ — an hour late for dinner with his gorgeous and sure to be very angry wife.

Rick manages to hail a cab at the corner of Columbus Circle and Eighth Avenue before his phone rings, and he gives himself time to instruct the cabbie on the address for the loft and to not take Broadway, but head across to Ninth because its almost curtain time for the theatre district before he answers.

He notices that the photo for Kate is different, one that makes him laugh out loud. She's standing in their bathroom, the stuffed stork he had bought her as a joke balanced on her shoulder the inanimate object being given her rapt attention. After the year they've experienced, the repeated blow of trying and failing to conceive a child, he's steered largely clear of anything hat relates to their lack of children, only teasing Kate when she initiates it.

If she's setting his phone screen to feature of a photo where she's comically talking to a stork, it's a sign that she's bounced back from another month of disappointment. That when he walks in the door she'll be smiling and happy, rather than dejected and lost.

"Hi, honey," Rick is smiling when he brings the phone to his ear, the fingers of his free hand tapping a rhythm against his knee that he belatedly realizes corresponds to whatever techno beat the driver is forcing him to listen too, "I know I'm late, Gina and the publishers wouldn't break until everything was signed and agreed upon. They want to have it all finalized before the holiday weekend."

It turns out that Kate isn't mad, just concerned. Instead she's frustrated with Gina for making him an hour late, for making her worry. They are approaching their third year as a married couple, but not checking in is a point of contention in their marriage ever since their would-have-been Hamptons ceremony. In three years, he's never argued the point with Kate, merely apologized if life gets in the way and he can't live up to that small concession.

"I'll be home in a few minutes, we're between 48th and 9th," he explains, lips curving into a smile once Kate replies with a 'see you soon', voice infinitely more relaxed than the start of their phone call.

Rick spends the rest of the cab ride with his eyes on the photo, wishing beyond anything that sometime soon the stork could find a home in a nursery for the newest member of their family.

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><p>By the time the door opens, Kate has cleaned herself up, put the laptop away, and sits lounging on the couch. She's trying to release the heavy tug of panic, remind herself that the kidnapping was years ago, that things are fine, the Black Pawn meeting just ran long.<p>

But it's part of her life now, the niggling worry in the back of her mind when things seem to be going right. It had blindsided her, how suddenly the best day of her life became the worst, the horror and helplessness of the weeks that followed. She's sure that she'll likely be eighty and still have gripping moments of terror when Castle doesn't call or arrive on time.

"Hey, Castle," she calls once he's inside the door, depositing keys and shrugging off his jacket, dropping it onto the back of a chair before claiming her mouth for a kiss. It's nothing demanding, a brush of contact that serves as a greeting and 'I missed you' in one touch, but it makes her smile, draw him in for a much longer exploration.

"I saw your photo," he says, grinning wide as Kate ducks her head, hiding her laugh against the curve of his neck, arms banding against his waist, "What exactly did the stork have to say that was so interesting?" Rick is teasing her with the question, lips caressing the top of her head, fingers sliding through the curly caramel strands of her hair, merely breathing in the scent of cherries and coffee that are his wife, the hint of Italian that comes at him from the kitchen.

Instead of a quick reply, some silly quip, he gets the slow withdrawal of Kate from her small cocoon, a shy smile that catches her teeth on her bottom lip. "Just that I'm pregnant," she says, the casualness of her tone belied by the sparkle in her eyes and the slow grin that lights her up.

It takes the span of one heartbeat for his mind to catch up with her, one single second to process the enormity of those four words before he's gathered her in his arms with a shout of joy, a long line of laughter before he manages to stop swinging her around, can pull Kate back to him to drop kisses against every part of her that he can easily reach, "Really? Kate, honey, oh…" he's completely out of words, struck speechless and maybe a little dumb by the announcement, but he's happy, utterly overwhelmed with her and the photo that so innocently changed his life.

He's officially never removing that photo from his phone, not until it can be replaced by one of Kate holding the tiny thing that's growing inside.


	15. Chapter 15 Retrieval

A/N: Anonymous tumblr prompt to begin a fic with this sentence _"He gently places her in the passenger seat and buckles her in, that when he notices it, her necklace is missing." _A _Veritas_ missing moment, though not one I particularly subscribe to. Ring is in her pocket in my personal canon.

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><p>He gently places her in the passenger seat and buckles her in, that when he notices it, her necklace is missing.<p>

It takes him a moment of retracing the day, trying to remember if he had seen the chain peeking through her shirt or leather jacket at the precinct or the crime scene. Rick knows that she doesn't always wear it, too concerned that it will be lost or stolen.

"Kate, where is your ring?" he asks, gaining a mouthful of her hair and the sharp metallic taste of blood when she stirs slightly at his voice, indecipherable noises caught at the back of her throat.

He decides its important enough to risk some time, giving one glance up and down the alley where the car is parked, double and triple checking that they are alone while he digs through the pocket of the hoodie, her jeans. He even peels off her shoes to ensure she hadn't tucked it there.

But Rick comes up empty, a frustrated sigh on his lips while he considers the risk. It's just a ring, he can easily buy her another one, but he knows Kate. She holds on to symbols and he can imagine the flash of pain in her eyes when he has to break the news that her ring has been lost.

His knee twinges in protest when he bounds up onto his feet in one go, the damaged nerves singing in protest while he locks the car and slips back into the stairwell that provides more shadow than light. He's apprehensive the entire four floor walk, memories of the blood that coated the wall and Kate's head, the dark red stains drying steadily on his hands when he eases the door open to their floor, peeks around the edge to find the hallway still deserted.

Rick finds himself wishing he'd made the extra effort to locate a gun while making a run for their getaway car, aware that whomever came after Kate and hurt her could be lying in wait to finish the job.

That is the reason for his hesitation when he pauses at the door, ears alert for any sound that would indicate people waiting on the other side. He only enters after a minute of silence, nudging the partially open slab of wood with his foot while expecting the worst.

For once, his writer's brain can't live up to the reality. There's blood seeping into the carpet, drops of it splattered on the walls and the heavy stench of Jack Daniels mixing with the already acrid smells of musty furniture, dust and death. Clear slivers of the glass from the broken bottle litter the carpet, crunching softly under his feet while Rick navigates the least destructive path over the two henchman, a shiver racing up his spine when he realizes that Kate's injury came from the bottle.

He had left her alone, they had found her and tried to kill her.

It's almost enough to bring him to his knees, the clear and startling realization that Kate could have easily been the one left dead on a ratty hotel room floor knocking the breath out of him. The tears aren't all that surprising, not really, but Rick does have to take a moment to gather himself and find some control.

Thirty seconds. He counts to thirty with his eyes closed, taking one long draw of breath to steel himself before he's back on the move, scooping the chain that holds two glittering rings from where they circle the sink drain.

He doesn't stop after that, never allowing himself to look at the faces of the men he knows Kate has killed in self defense. He doesn't stop to retrieve the gun which he is sure has been stolen from her apartment safe and has now emptied bullets into three victims. Instead, he moves as quickly as he can back down the stairs, placing himself behind the wheel of the car.

By morning, Kate will be wanted for far more than the murder of Vulcan Simmons and its best they have plenty of distance between themselves and the city when that happens.


End file.
